Learning Curves
by her name is erika
Summary: Reed isn't your little boy anymore. / Or, five things Victoria learns about her son. Victoria-centric, slight VictoriaBilly


**Learning Curves  
** **Show:** Young  & the Restless  
 **Summary:** Reed isn't your little boy anymore. / Or, five things Victoria learns about Reed. Victoria-centric, slight VictoriaBilly.  
 **Notes:** Just a little piece I decided to crank out due to Reed's arrival. Nothing too extensive. I think it will be my shortest. Or, it won't be as long as my usual stuff. I wish you a Happy Year. Hopefully, 2017 will be great. I've edited as much as I could, but still, forgive any typos. Thank you for reading and your feedback as always. It's so appreciated you have no idea.  
 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Once again, I am just playing in the CBS/Bell/Sony sandbox and hopping out of it again.

* * *

One of the biggest regrets you still have is the fact that the memory of Reed's birth is missing. You can remember when he's conceived. You can remember the first time you hear the hummingbird thumping of his heartbeat inside of you. You even remember the day Reed kicks inside of you as you getting bigger and bigger. He grows the same time you do. But then on that fall day in October, you think you survive the Clear Springs explosion. The worst is over until you're hit in the hit in the head by a rock you can't see coming.

You're knocked off your feet and you start tumbling. Gravity pulls you down over sloped dirt and over rocks. You feel the dirt in your hair and rocks push themselves against your skin and yet, there are thoughts of your child in your head the most. You're falling and things are getting dark. Your periphery starts to melt away, but you don't want things to be just as dark for your baby. Your baby has to be okay. Your baby has to be fine. Your baby has to be safe even if you aren't.

You let your eyes close because you can't fight anymore and you're so tired. You can feel the pain in your head, the scraping where you fall over the rocks, but you pray.

You just need to breathe but you continue to pray. You breathe and pray until you can't anymore. Before you let go of that thread of consciousness, you learn that you love your child when it's just a heartbeat. You love your baby as it kicks your insides and can hear your voice now.

You learn that you would die for your baby and not think about it twice.

—

Maybe it's the weird easygoing way you are with Billy now. Maybe it's the spirit of the holiday. It could even be the memory of a man drunk outside of a bar and a woman who walks over and offers her hand to him. Seven years since and it feels like a lifetime but in that moment, the memory is vivid. It is alive and breathing in the room.

You're not married anymore. You're not even lovers between the sheets. It's been a while. You're co-parents. You're co-workers. You're friends.

There's a shift, though. It's gravity, or a kind of familiar magnetism you don't want to acknowledge because why go in reverse?

Billy tilts his head to almost meet your lips and think you could meet his. You're so close to him, you catch the musk of his cologne and can see the warm brown colour of his irises. There's champagne with a hint of rum on his breath. Flashes of crashing a wedding complete with dancing on a Jamaican beach speed up in your head.

Then the haze of memories and the nostalgia evaporate, pulling you down to reality due to the doorbell. You're almost thankful for it. You run to it and you may be running away from Billy or what it means if that kiss happens. You walk away from the habits of old and to whoever is on the other side of the door. _New year, therefore new life, Victoria,_ you tell yourself.

You open the door and see the police officer before your eyes land on your son. _Reed._ He's taller since you last see him. It's cold and the air makes the goosebumps break out on your bare arms. He has a mop of dark hair. His eyes are blue like yours with a strong jawline that is _almost_ like Nick's. Reed has his dad's ears – that something long established. The shape of Reed's mouth is yours but the wry smile that rests on them is JT's.

"Reed," you breathe out, almost. "What are you doing here?"

It's a stupid question, but in your shock, it makes sense to ask. One minute, you almost pick your phone to wish him a Happy New Year and the next, here's here. He's not a voice on your phone or a face on a screen when you video chat with him.

He's physically standing here.

"Hi, Mom."

You're still staring into Reed's face and taking in the fact that your little boy no longer fits in your arms or he longer needs you to snuggle with him to sleep. He will no longer want to help you bake cookies on Friday nights.

"He says he belongs to you," the police officer intones, looking at you with raised eyebrows. "Is that right?"

"Yes," you reply automatically and gratefully. "He's my son. Thank you for bringing him."

"See? Told you my mom lived here, Officer."

You look him silently warning him to not speak right now when an explanation is in order later. Rather, it will happen when Billy leaves and you can process what is happening. Your son walks past you and into the house.

"I promise Reed will have no police encounters. Again, thank you."

The police officer is silent for a moment and only says, "I'll hold you to that, Ms. Newman. Goodnight."

You return it with the same sentiments and finally, close the door shut.

Using a hand to comb through your hair with a sigh, you realize Reed is home. He's somehow left DC, most likely without JT's knowledge, and found you.

He's a little boy that loves video games and baseball.

But you blink and Reed is a fifteen-year-old teenager on the brink of being an adult. Thankfully, he's isn't one yet and there's still time. _Small favours,_ you think.

You learn that you have too many moments of blinking and missing facets of Reed's life.

 _Where does the time go and when does so such of it pass by?_

—

Billy is leaving after briefly welcoming Reed home.

He grabs his jacket from behind the couch and walks over to the door but not before he gazes at you and locks eyes with you again. You know what _that_ means. You know what he's saying under the translation of the language of the eyes you both know so well. You force your eyes to glance away and his eyes go to the floor for a brief second. Billy raises his eyes and finds yours easily as he knows how, you admit. You don't hear that secret language travel from you to him across the room anymore. He's simply speaking to you, now.

"Goodnight, Vick," he says to you and then looks past you to Reed. "Goodnight, Reed. Welcome home."

Reed smiles, "Thanks, Billy."

Reed has dropped his bag by the door and taken off his jacket, scarf and gloves now.

"Goodnight, Billy," you say finally. He opens the door, walks through it and he's gone.

Your son sinks into the chair while, still in your dress, you take your seat opposite him on the coffee table. Reed looks contrite and he sighs.

"I know, I know. I'm in huge trouble. I'm sorry."

"Reed, you should never be sorry you're here. This is your home. However, how much trouble you're in depends on what you tell me and what I hear when I call your father. How?"

"How…what?"

You ask again, not necessarily angry but with the need for an explanation.

"How did you somehow get here? Because I know you didn't fly out."

Reed is silent, also inheriting your habit of putting a hand lightly in his hair to brush the bangs of his hair out of his eyes. He lightly shrugs as if getting here is as easy as walking to the grocery store or Crimson Lights. Reed starts to explain, "I didn't want to live with Dad and Mac anymore, especially because we were going to move again. He probably expected me to say nothing and start packing, but he never once asked me how I felt. I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom and it wasn't fair of him to just lay something like that on me. So, I did start packing around Christmas. When the house was empty, I went out through my bedroom window and just…left until I got to the bus station."

You feel yourself raise your eyebrow in questioning. You frown at Reed, and nearly shudder at every nightmarish scenario happening in your head, one movie after the other. The thing that terrifies you the most is the fact that Reed could land himself in danger and you would never know. Nobody would.

"Did you try to bring how you feel to your father's attention?"

"Did it matter?" Reed says, slightly snapping before he stops and apologizes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…" he trails off, perhaps to gather his thoughts before starting up his explanation again. "It wouldn't have mattered because he'd bring up the court stuff. I got on the bus and made it to Milwaukee before they kicked me off the bus."

 _What?_

"They kicked you off the bus?" you repeat, incredulously, because surely that's not what happens. "What do you mean they kicked you off?"

Reed blinks. "Exactly what I said, Mom," he answers with a deadpanned tone. "I saved up something. Just enough. But I rushed out so quickly I left it in my room. Like I said, I wasn't going back home so I made a split-second decision and you know," he shrugs, "snuck on."

" _Reed Newman Hellstrom!_ "

"It was stupid, I know that. But it was also an accident," he protests. "I swear!"

You laugh but not because you find anything humorous. Far from it. You're laughing because you really want to hear how this occurs as a result of an accident when, by your son's own admission, there is careful intentional planning involved. If he wants to leave DC and see you, why doesn't it occur to him to call you? Why not call you and explain so you can, in turn, explain things to JT so everything legally and logistically works out?

You sigh, suddenly exhausted. It settles in your bones. It intertwines itself into every stitch and seam of your dress. Your head feels heavier, filled to the brim with mental soup. Any more and it may spill everywhere. The Abbott-Winters Foundation gala falls apart. Johnny forces you and Billy to rush home. Reed is here. You have all three of your children underneath your roof. Then, there's Billy. There's always Billy nowadays, isn't there? Sometimes in your quietest thoughts, you wish there isn't.

Looking at Reed, you concede that it's anything but easy to get here and he's just as tired.

"This discussion is by no means over. We'll table it for now," you say, sternly and stand. Reed does, too, and you still cannot take in the fact that you look up at him now. You admit with a grin, placing a hand on his cheek affectionately. "I am so glad you're here. I know two more people who will be ecstatic to have their big brother around. Your room is still there, of course. Head up."

"Thank you. This is so cool of you."

Reed smiles at you now. You can't help but return it.

"Happy New Year, sweetheart."

Hugging you back, he rests his head on your shoulder and whispers, "Happy New Year."

You learn that yeah, in some ways, he still is your baby.

—

For reasons that make sense to an almost five-year-old, Johnny is awake.

You're about to ask why he's awake when you watch his eye catch Reed. He navigates the stairs the best way he can and he's a master at them when Katherine needs help.

His little feet go as fast as they can carry him and with a smile that takes up his face, launches himself at Reed so his arms encircle his waist. Johnny is smiling from ear-to-ear, blue eyes twinkling.

"Reed!" Johnny says it as well as a four-year-old can.

Reed is smiling just as much and crouches to Johnny's level. "Hey, bro!"

"You stay here?" Johnny asks his brother in his little voice and your heart melts. _Your boys._

"Yup," Reed answers his brother with a nod. "I'm here, but we gotta to get to bed. It's not cool with Mom if we stay up," he says, seriously and then lightly tickles Johnny's previously turning tummy. Apparently, he's all better now. Reed adds with a whisper, making Johnny laugh. "But it would be awesome if we totally did."

"Yeah!"

You throw Reed another stern look, full of warning but you don't hold onto it very long.

"Reed, don't encourage him."

"Sorry, Mom. I know, I know. Bed. Got it. Right, Johnny?"

"Got it, Mommy," Johnny says after Reed with a little nod. His attention is captured by Reed once again and here you are. You're equal parts their mother and a spectator, watching two brothers who love each other instantly. Katherine will be smitten with her brother, you know it. She already is based on past encounters.

"Let's go to bed. Tomorrow will come by fast and we'll make the coolest fort ever," he promises, offering Johnny his fist to bump. Johnny nods again and bumps his little fist against Reed's. Reed opens up his hand and once again, Johnny imitates it, opening his little hand too. "Boom. That's how you blow it up, dude."

You watch your sons interact. There are smiles. There is laughter.

You learn ( _read: re-learn_ ) Reed is a really, _really_ great big brother and you've missed his sweetness terribly. You've missed… _him_.

—

The house is quiet, all three of your children asleep. Before you go your bedroom, you still habitually check on each of them. Johnny is asleep, his chest rising up and down with each little breath. The only audible sound is little snores that bounce off of the blue walls of his room, decorated with a theme of rocket ships and cute dinosaurs. You smile softly, and press a kiss to his head before closing the door gently. You tie the sash of your flowered night robe a little tighter and leave your hair in a messy bun as you pad over to Katherine's room. The walls are a dark pink and a soft lavender colour.

She's into glitter and sparkles but she's also into doing whatever her brother is doing. You may have a little tomboy on your hands and yet she loves dressing up for her toddler dance class. You guess Katie is a tomboy some days while on others, she's girly. There's a colourful decoration that spells out her name done in animal print because in her two-year-old mind, it's pretty and what she wants. She has cute animal print and glitter everywhere as the theme of her room. A flower with translucent green leaves and multi-coloured petals is a lamp while a simple circular clock framed in pearl white ticks away on the wall. Katie lies asleep in her bed, face peaceful aside from the little furrow in her brow.

You lightly stroke your daughter's head, _light_ brown hair catching light even in the dark. You kiss her head, too, and Katherine stirs but doesn't wake. Still, she has that furrow in her brow, a sleeping habit inherited from her dad. _Billy._ You rub your arms, the gooseflesh bumpy against your palms with the intention of erasing them. You watch your daughter sleep just a little longer before you close her door gently and pad over to the room with the painted red door.

You open the door and things change from when he's a little boy. There are no bedtime stories. There's no need for him to be tucked in, nor is there any need for you to sing and cuddle him to sleep. You let your eyes adjust to the darkness and let them flit over the room. It's not decorated much. There's a floor bound to have articles of clothing strewn all over it and it will drive you up the wall. His now empty bag sit against a wall. His clothing is probably in the closet on hangers…or not. There's a wooden desk with drawers with the potential to have homework strewn all over it and will take a little longer to get done. Your eyes land on your son. He sleeps on his stomach, covers at his waist while a foot peeks out and hangs out awkwardly. An arm also hangs out over the side of the bed, the tips of his fingers nearly graze the floor.

Reed turns over in his sleep, turning his face away from you and burying his face in the pillow. The turnover causes his sleep position to be reconfigured in another awkward position yet landing comfortably so it doesn't break his steady pattern of sleep. You smile softly, say goodnight in a whisper and just as quietly as you do your other two children, you quietly close the red bedroom door.

You pad over to your master bedroom to get some much needed sleep of your own.

You learn Reed isn't your little boy anymore.

However, all things considered, he is safe, healthy and more importantly, he's _home_.

—

 _fin._


End file.
